Page:The Cross Pull.pdf/91

 paws on the window ledge and looked inside.

Three men sat there with Brent. A ragged scar lined the face of one from ear to chin and his stubbly red beard sprouted at eccentric angles along the line of it, lending a sinister twist to his face. Another was a dark, slender faced man with a hint of the Oriental in look and manner. The head of the third was wide and flat on top, slanting down abruptly to his pointed chin which gave a fox-like cast to his triangular countenance.

At a sudden move from the man with the scar Flash dropped from the window, and as his feet touched the ground the glass crashed above him and there was a jarring report from within. He ran, and behind him the muffled roar sounded twice again.

The man had leaped suddenly to his feet and at the look in his eyes the others dropped flat to the floor as he shot twice across them at the window. Brent swept the lantern from the table and another, from his prone position, fired through the door, then followed his shot and sprang outside. They scattered through the night and threw themselves flat upon the ground.

Twenty minutes later Brent’s voice broke the silence.